


The Rogue In Purple, A Sidestory: Riding St. George at the old Flash Panney

by JoAsakura



Series: The Rogue In Purple [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A side story to The Rogue In Purple. Unrepentant, faux-regency smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rogue In Purple, A Sidestory: Riding St. George at the old Flash Panney

Angel de la Muerte had been handsome, almost girlishly so, in his youth. But his nose had been broken and his lip split far too many times to make that claim anymore. None of that seemed to matter to the black-haired brigand set between his sprawled knees, Angel's shaft down his throat and a look of surprising bliss on his face.

Angel's shirt and virtually all of Adam's clothing were discarded on the floor, and the boxer carded his fingers through the highwayman's long hair, drawing his attention back to their conversation. "I find it hard to talk when you're doing that." He said with a low rumble as Adam released his cock with a little laugh.

"Fine then." The other man said, clambering into Angel's lap, reaching blindly for the bottle of oil nearby. "I'm all ears." He added, making a show of dribbling the liquid onto his fingers to slowly slick Angel's shaft.

"You're a monster." Angel teased, tracing the faint scars that peppered Adam's thighs. 

"So I am. But you were telling me about Mexico before you got so... distracted." Adam laughed again, thumb tracing the head of Angel's cock.

"There's not much to tell after that. My mother was a rich man's mistress. She used to tell me how the conquistadors, they took all of her people's history. Burned their books, made them lose their language. She wanted me to know because I looked too much like him for her taste." He shook his head sadly, eyes closing at the pleasure of Adam's insistent touch. "Every time I break a rich boy's nose in the boxing ring, I pretend it's him." He said, a smile curling his lip. 

"I should have liked to see you as a warrior of old." Adam leaned in closer, lips warm on Angel's throat. "Gold and jade and those green feathers waving brightly in the breeze. You would have been a sight."

Angel cupped Adam's face with his hands, to drag him in for a slow kiss. "Is that why you insist on buying me golden trinkets?" He growled against Adam's mouth.

"I would shower you in all good things." Adam squirmed happily on Angel's lap, clearly enjoying the soft touch of the other man's buckskins on his bare body. "I am rather fond of you, you know."

"So tell me about your own past." Angel stroked Adam's hair, watching the iridescent, purple-black strands slip through his fingers. "You never speak of yourself."

"What is there to tell?" Adam said and Angel saw his face shutter for a moment. "I'm a rogue and a cad and very bad man who is very much in love with you." He added, the smile no longer reaching his eyes even as he stroked his own shaft with torturous deliberation against Angel's.

The boxer suddenly grabbed Adam's wrists and stopped him, jaw twitching as he forced the highwayman's hands behind him. He rubbed his face against Adam's chest, stubble leaving scratches as he felt the heavy beat of the heart beneath the skin and the rumbling purr that accompanied it. "Why do you do this? Play at the fool all the time?"

Adam's fake smile faded entirely, and Angel released his wrists, now convinced that the brigand would stay still. "I find my... popularity is directly proportional to my... utility." He said, the smile returning, small and sad. 

Angel stroked his face, rubbing his thumb along Adam's lower lip. "You would go to war for Miss Shaundi or Mister Washington. You took a bullet meant for me. You hide how much you care under mockery and sarcasm, and you never once think that someone will do the same for you." He pressed his fingers over Adam's mouth to silence his words. "They care. *I* care. And I want to know everything you are willing to tell me."

Adam dropped his gaze, leaning into the touch with a shiver. "My first memory was in the poorhouse. I was.. in a corner. I had a wooden doll. And there was a rat.. and.." He opened his eyes and looked at Angel. "Well, let's just say I think that might have been my mother, cold beside me. That rat was the first life I took."

"Adam.." Angel's fingers traced the curve of Adam's cheekbone. 

"When the clergyman couldn't beat the devil out of me.. they sold me... I'm sorry.. *apprenticed* me... to an innkeeper." He laughed, a dull, dead sound. "Cleaning up after besottted gentlemen amongst other things. I didn't even have a name, called after like a dog. Good Thomas. Good Boy. That's the stuff, lad." Adam lay his head against Angel's shoulder as the other man stroked his back.

"But you were a dragoon, weren't you? An officer in the cavalry?" Angel asked and Adam sat back with a chuckle. 

"Adam Smith was a coward and a dilettante." He splayed his oily fingers against Angel's chest. "Who was eager to lose himself in rum and whores rather than take up a sword. I.." Adam paused. "He was unable to join his regiment, and as a good lad and a patriot, I took his place. I had a natural aptitude towards the arts of war and..."

"The rest was Cyrus Temple and history." Angel lifted Adam's chin, and the highwayman smiled. 

"Perhaps. Perhaps even this isn't the truth of it." Adam squirmed a bit on Angel's lap. "Everything about me is a lie, Angel. Everything."

"Adam Smith is a brave, clever man." Angel kissed his forehead, then his nose, then gently on the lips. "And i am proud to count him as my love." His hands slid down the small of Adam's back, rough and dark against the tawny gold of the highwayman's skin. He scooped Adam up and the other man's smile turned sharp, lighting his green eyes. 

"As I am, you." Adam whispered, lifting himself up, then sliding down slow and deliberate, on Angel's shaft. He let out a soft hiss, fingers twitching on Angel's scarred chest. "Perfect." The single word cracked as he drove down to meet Angel's thrusts. Angel's hands tightened on his rear, holding him close. "Angel~"

The boxer moved them, pushing Adam down on the soft velvet of the sofa, hands traveling upwards, along Adam's ribs and up his arms to pin his wrists as the highwayman whimpered. Adam squirmed, hooking his legs over Angel's shoulders as the bigger man ground him into the cushions. "Beautiful, clever little crow." He growled against Adam's jaw, kisses sharp on fragile skin as they moved together. 

Angel pulled out, almost all the way, then thrust in hard enough to scrape the legs of the sofa on the wooden floor. "Sing for me little bird." He rumbled against the bandit's whimpering lips with each repeat of the motion. "Sing for me."

Adam arched up hard, toes curling as his legs spasmed on Angel's shoulders. He cried out - the words were foreign, but the tone was well familiar as he came, white and wet against the warmth of his skin. Angel made one final thrust, the orgasm rippling up from his core, hot and bright behind his eyes. 

In that moment, Adam was undone beneath him, and Angel knew, whatever else, that alone was the truth of him.


End file.
